Mad Masen
by yalegirl915
Summary: Edward Masen was once on his way to being one of the most feared gangsters in Chicago. He didn't believe he deserved forgiveness for any of the things he'd done, but when he meets Bella Swan, he learns a lot of things not only about himself, but life in general. AU/AH


Washington was too green.

Too many trees, too much dirt, not enough buildings, not enough people to get lost in.

He just couldn't get over the size of the trees. From his place in the backseat of the brand new Mercedes – a gift to his mother from his new, rich, asshole stepfather – his eyes tracked tree after tree that zoomed past. He did it as a distraction. He didn't want to join his mother and Carlisle's conversation, despite their earnest attempts to include him. Actually, Edward hadn't spoken but a handful of words since he got out juvie three weeks ago. The first moment he saw his mother outside of the Cook County Juvenile Detention Center, he'd hugged her, said _I_ _'_ _m sorry, Mom_ , and shut his mouth. He loved his mother, respected her, so every time she asked him a question or tried to prompt a conversation from him he wasn't a complete asshole. He shrugged, he nodded, his shook his head, he smiled, he frowned. Anything to not talk. He didn't feel like it.

But when he returned to their shitty Housing Project apartment on the West side of Chicago and his mother introduced him to Dr. Carlisle Cullen, M.D., and said she was in love and that they were moving to Bumfuck, Washington State, he may have had a brief internal freak out. He may have instinctually went for his piece when the _perfect_ doctor turned his back only to remember that he didn't carry weapons anymore. He wasn't the same guy he used to be. His mother seemed genuinely happy with the blonde prick, and said blonde prick didn't seem anything like the other losers he used to have to run off. But that didn't mean he had to like the guy. He knew that he hated Cullen the moment the man dissed the Cubs in favor of the White Sox. He clearly couldn't be trusted.

It only got worse from there. He was happy for his mother because she was happy. Ecstatic. She was practically glowing on their wedding day a week later in that stuffy courthouse office as the Justice of the Peace announced that the groom could kiss the bride. He may have even smiled when Esme hugged Alice and Emmett, Carlisle's two perfect children. They were the kids she always deserved – well-mannered and sweet, though maybe a bit ditzy and, in Emmett's case, just plain stupid. He even shook Cullen's hand. He gave the two mini-Cullens his scariest glare but the small one kissed his cheek and the huge one clapped him on the back. He allowed it because it made Esme cry in happiness. Besides, the two knew he was in juvie, but they didn't know exactly what went down for him to get there in the first place. If they did, they'd probably be weary of him. Instead, they never stopped trying to talk to him, engage him, spend time with him. Whenever he turned around, there they were. He was relieved when Cullen took them to Washington a week ahead of their scheduled move to get them settled in before returning himself a day later. Edward couldn't leave the state so soon after getting sprung, so he stayed with his mom and Carlisle for a few weeks at his Gold Coast penthouse.

And now they were passing a field of cows. Fucking cows. Edward couldn't help it. He started laughing. Esme whirled around in the passenger seat and gazed at him with wide, shiny eyes. She looked on the verge of crying. His laughter dropped off and his face fell. All he ever did was make her cry. It was times like this he realized he seemed to be cut from the exact same cloth as his biological father, no matter how much he tried not to be. His eyes met Cullen's in the rearview mirror. They were wide and he could tell the guy was smiling, though he didn't know why. His mother was crying, for God's sake. Asshole. He dropped his head and continued to stare out the window.

"Please don't." He tore his eyes from the trees flying past and settled them on his mother, who, despite her tears, was grinning wider than even on her wedding day. "Let me hear that laugh again. I haven't seen it since before…" She trailed off. He glanced at Cullen who kept his eyes on the deserted road before them. Edward felt uncomfortable broaching this subject in front of him. What if the guy really was an asshole and he left his mother because of her baggage – also known as her son, Edward the gangster? The Chicago P.D. said that Mad Masen was a threat to the safety of the citizens of not only Illinois, but the rest of the country. Counselor Adams of the Juvenile Justice Bureau of Cook County said Mad Masen was more than a garden variety, run-of-the-mill thug and that he needed to be tried as an adult. Detective Lozano, the Gang Specialist assigned to the case, said that Mad Masen was a young man with a lot of potential that was hiding more than anyone knew and that under no certain circumstances should he be tried as anything other than a sixteen-year-old juvenile delinquent. If Edward ever heard the name _Mad Masen_ again he would probably lose it.

"Since before I got popped," he asked dryly. He felt guilty when she winced. But then again, guilt wasn't new to Edward at all. "Sorry," he said softly. A moment of awkward silence passed before he spoke again. "I was laughing at the cows. It's pretty different here than in Chicago, I guess." He hadn't spoken this much in months. He certainly didn't say a word in juvie.

Esme smiled at him softly, resting her cheek against the passenger seat, still turned toward him. She laid her pristine white hand atop his heavily tattooed one. It made him feel like he was getting her dirty, but he didn't move his hand from hers in case she took it the wrong way. "It's a new beginning, Sweetheart. You'll see." She glanced at Cullen and then back at him before turning forward in her seat. "You'll see."

* * *

"…and Chief Swan came by yesterday with Bella! She's living with him again, Daddy, isn't that great?! We're going to be best friends again. I invited her and the Chief over for dinner tonight, but he has to work. She's still coming over, though! Oops, sorry, Esme, I totally forgot to tell you! You don't mind right? Bella is the nicest and sweetest and funniest girl, we used to be best friends, and we're clearly going to be best friends again…"

Edward hadn't drank, smoked, snorted, or popped anything since he got arrested. Not even in juvie, where cocaine was easier to come by than water, had he indulged. He planned to keep his nose clean, literally and figuratively, and not let Detective Lozano or his mother down. But six hours of living with Alice Cullen, and he was ready to snort a rail or two. He didn't understand how someone so tiny could talk so damn much.

"…when we start school tomorrow! Me and Emmett will show you around the school and help you find your classes, Edward. You can meet Rose and Jasper, too! They're friends of the family because their dad grew up with our dad. Jazzie's Emmett's best friend, but I had the biggest crush on him when we were in Middle School. You won't tell him will you, Edward? I'm so glad that it isn't just me and Emmett anymore, because when Emmett starts training for football I won't be so lonely. We can go to the beach at La Push and invite Bella. We'll have so much fun! I'm so happy we're a family…"

And then she said things like that and he couldn't help but open himself up to her. She was sweet and enthusiastic about everything. She was just the sort of daughter that Esme always deserved. It was as if Edward's absence in her life granted his mother everything she ever deserved. He could already tell that this is the sort of place his mother always should have lived. The house was huge and beautiful. It was the kind of house Edward always planned to acquire for her, until everything went to shit. If Cullen was good for anything, it was his money. He was donate-a-building-to-Harvard, vacation-home-in-St. Bart's, millions-in-a-Swiss-bank-account, old money. At least his mother would never want for anything. She'd never have to work a day in her life ever again. But he would be finding a job as soon as possible. His mother was the guy's wife, she had a right to the money and the comfort. But Edward wasn't anything to Cullen but a nuisance. With good reason. He could hardly blame the guy. Edward would probably be put out too if he found the perfect woman only to find that she had a piece-of-shit trouble son he would be forced to live with. He planned to make it easy for everyone before he took off for good. Of course, he'd still keep in touch with his mother, he wouldn't disrespect her that way. But Cullen and the two mini-Cullens would never have to see his ugly mug again.

"…found this really cool recipe in one of Aunt Carmen's old recipe books. Do you think maybe we could cook it together tomorrow night, Esme? I never learned how to cook but when I tasted that Spanish Paella you made for our first dinner together I realized I wanted to learn to cook just as well as you. Did your mom teach you? I think it would be cool if your mom taught you, then my mom taught me, and I could teach my daughter! It could be like a tradition…"

Edward smiled softly before slipping out of the living room inconspicuously. At the bottom of the stairs, he glanced behind him at the four people sitting closely in front of the fireplace. They hadn't noticed him leave and he was glad for it. He felt out of place in the perfect family, but his mother fit like a missing puzzle piece. He was sad and yet happy at the same time. Sad for himself and happy for her. As he ascended the staircase and retreated to his bedroom, he tried to snap himself out of the sudden dark cloud that filled his head. Nothing good ever came from that dark cloud. It was what got him in trouble in the first place.

About an hour later he heard a soft rap on his door. He looked up from his battered copy of Brave New World. "Yes?" The door opened to reveal Cullen.

"Hey, Edward. I was wondering if we could have a talk. Can I come in?"

Edward shrugged. "It's your house," he replied. Cullen frowned but entered the bedroom anyway. He sat in the desk chair across from the bed that Edward was currently laying on, stomach-down.

Cullen took a deep breath before speaking. "I know this situation was sprung on you pretty suddenly. I'm not even going to pretend that I know what you're going thr–"

"Um, Carlisle?" Edward cleared his throat. "Sorry, but could you spare me the I-don't-know-what-you're-going-through-but-I'm-here-if-you-need-to-talk schtick? What did you really come up here to tell me?" He expected Cullen to get pissed off and leave, wanted him to even. But he was still infuriatingly cool, calm, and collected. The guy even smiled genuinely.

"That's something I really like about you, Edward. You're always to-the-point. That's something I find rather refreshing." The older man chuckled. "I wanted to speak with you about your parole officer."

Edward bristled. "That's none of your business," he replied calmly, though inside he was seething. A handful of replies were spinning behind his teeth. You're not my father. You have no right. You have my mother fooled but I'll never let my guard down around you. You're nothing to me. But if there was anything Edward learned from his time spent in one of Chicago's most feared gangs, it was to not lose your cool in a shady situation. And Cullen was definitely shady to him. No man was self-sufficient, wealthy, _and_ a good character. People like that just didn't exist.

"I know I'm not your father." Edward snorted and rolled his eyes, but Cullen wasn't phased. "But your mother and I are both invested in your future," he continued. "I pulled in a lot of favors to get your case transferred to Washington." At this admission Edward blanched. He knew that guys in his situation wouldn't normally be allowed to leave Chicago let alone Illinois and that the _good doctor_ had a hand in the miraculous circumstances. He was secretly grateful, but it was only further proof that Carlisle Cullen just couldn't be real. There must be _something_ about the guy. "And I would never dream of throwing that in your face. That's not why I'm talking to you about this. I'm not going to pretend that I know everything, but your mother and I have talked a lot about this. I've seen the way you are with her, anyone with two eyes can see that you love her and want the best for her. It's clear you're trying to turn everything around. I just wanted to let you know that I'm on your side."

A moment of silence passed between the two of them, the white noise was almost deafening. "That being said," Cullen continued, "Mrs. Weber, your parole officer, is a personal friend of mine. She's truly a wonderful lady and she's excited to meet you. I know it's a bit unorthodox, her being a friend of the family. But she's genuine and I know you'll treat her with the utmost respect." Cullen's eyes flicked down quickly to the large tattoo on Edward's forearm. It was covered in tattoos, a full sleeve, but the word RESPECT jumped out particularly noticeably in blue and green letters. Edward shifted, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

"I don't make it a habit to disrespect women. I'm not going to assault or hurt her, if that's what you mean. I'm not a complete asshole." If Edward didn't feel he deserved such an insinuation he may have been offended at the thinly veiled implication in his stepfather's words.

Cullen's eyes practically bugged out of his head. "I–that's not–I mean–I didn't mean," he spluttered.

Edward scoffed. "Listen, we done here? I have school tomorrow and I'd like to get a few hours, thanks." He stared into his book, avoided looking at Cullen even when he bid him goodnight, shutting the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, Edward buried his face in his hands, only just suppressing a guttural scream that fought to escape. His past would always follow him. His body was like a walking gang sign. Many of his tattoos, the way he walked, the way he held himself. When he first got in, he'd been so happy to be able to provide for his mother. But the deeper he got, the more he realized he was just hurting her. And himself. And now he would never be rid of the reminders. The triple dots on his hand, the spade, heart, diamond, and club on his knuckles, the bullet scar on his shoulder, the three stab wounds in his abdomen. He gave four years of his life and probably ruined the rest of it, and for what? Respect? Money? Power?

The terror on his mother's face and the look of disbelief in her eyes when the police raided their apartment made all of those things seem insignificant. He would never be able to get that look out of his head. And as he settled in for another night of staring at the ceiling, as far away from sleep as one could get, he realized that he didn't want to forget. If not for that look he would still be Mad Masen.


End file.
